


Hazelnut Mocha For Tall, Dark and Murderous

by LWTIS



Series: Creek Week [1]
Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, Misunderstandings, Strangers to Lovers, The Universe Won't Give Craig a Break, creekweek, righteous punishment of people who yell at baristas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-02 06:40:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16299992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LWTIS/pseuds/LWTIS
Summary: Craig just wants one interaction with the cute barista that doesn't end in him making an idiot out of himself.Meanwhile, Tweek is convinced that Chullo Hat Enthusiast Regular is trying to kill him.Written for Creek Week. //Day 1 - First | Coffee Shop//





	Hazelnut Mocha For Tall, Dark and Murderous

“J-j-just heads up - tall, dark and m...myst...murderous coming in at twelve o’clock.”

In a professional manner befitting a barista with almost a decade’s worth of experience, Tweek drops to his knees and out of sight. On the other side of the counter, Jimmy muffles a snigger into his sleeve.

“ _Argh!_ What does he want?!”

“Coffee, I a-a-assume.”

“He doesn’t even drink coffee!” Tweek hisses from his hiding place, earning a concerned glance from the part-timer behind him. “It’s all hot chocolates and mochas with way too much hazelnut syrup! The strongest he’s ever ordered was a cup of Earl Grey!”

Jimmy whistles. “W-w-wow. Yeah, he’s definitely not h-h-here for the d-drinks then. Everyone knows how a...awf...terrible your tea is.”

_“Oi!”_

“H-here he c-comes..”

Briefly, Tweek despairs over not having any sort of panic system installed in the shop before dragging himself to his feet, straining to tug his customer service smile back on.

For the past few weeks, he has been having trouble with a regular.  
He really should have been Tweek’s favourite kind of customer under normal circumstances - he preferred straightforward, boring drinks, tipped regularly and didn’t feel the need to make Tweek play unwilling therapist whilst waiting for his order. (He also wore his handsomeness with devastating ease, but Tweek isn't ready to approach _that_ particular train of thought just yet.) It would have been perfect - if it wasn’t for the fact Tweek was convinced that the  attractive stranger was out to kill him.  
There were just too many instances, too many strange things to chalk it up to all being a coincidence. Too many odd phrases, too many weird, dropped sentences resulting in awkward silence. And God, the _staring_. The constant staring - dark blue eyes, following him around the shop, whether he was on tills, or doing something as mundane as wiping a spill.

He was learning. Studying him, familiarising himself with Tweek’s habits, witnessing every single slip-up, twitch and tick, no doubt internally laughing at his misery and rapidly fraying nerves -    
The very same blue eyes, right in front of him. Their owner tilts his head with an unsaid question, prompting Tweek to snap back into routine, words coming out in a rapidfire burst. “Sorry for the - _nghhh -_ wait! What can I get you?”

Tall, Dark and Future Cause of Death fixes his gaze on the barista, coins already in hand. Opens his mouth.  
And then promptly turns around and walks right out of the store.

The bell is still jingling when Jimmy starts to laugh, low and delighted. “S-smoooooth.”

The blonde finally finds his voice again, strangled and utterly incredulous. “What the fuck was that?!”

“An em...embarrassment.”

With a loud thump, Tweek’s forehead hits the counter. He just about catches the part-timer’s muted gasp of horror. “He is going to kill me, Jimmy. They’re going to find me in a dumpster next week with no wallet and no eyeballs! _Argh!"_ Hands fly to his hair just as he whips his head up, fixing his friend with a horrified look.“If he’s been staring so much, shouldn’t he know I’m broke?! I’m not worth killing for the money!”

Fingers grasp his wrist, firmly tugging them away from his hair. “I d-don’t f-f-follow the no eyeball t-theory.”

“I’m being serious!”  

“Tweek. I a-ain’t worried, cuz the first week I m-m-met you, I got to w-w-watch you incap...incapacitate a mugger with just a thermos and a te-textbook.” Jimmy says kindly. The light catches on the sharp edge of his braces as he flashes his signature smile. “Y-you can handle one u-u-useless nerd.”

\---

Tall Weird Regular makes an appearance after Wednesday's morning rush, after two days of absence. He offers a nod at Tweek's strained greeting before ordering a customary hot chocolate with extra whip. Tweek can't decide whether he's more relieved or oddly disappointed at the lack of disruption to the routine.  
As he’s ringing up his total, Potential Axe Murderer clears his throat.

“I’m. Uh. Sorry.” he says. His fingers pluck at his sleeve before he shoves both hands into his pockets. “About last time.”

It’s through deep-ingrained muscle memory that Tweek doesn’t mess up the order. “...No harm done.”

“Still. I didn’t mean to be a dick.” He looks oddly uncomfortable - so much so that Tweek finds himself leaning forwards.

“Look.” he says, hoping his tone comes across as reassuring. “As long as you don’t - nghh - try to guilt trip me into donating and stacking extremist pamphlets in the shop, or hobble in and throw up all over the counter ten minutes before closing time, you’re - nghh - fine in my books.”  
_And. You know. Don’t make plans to murder me._

Instead of relief, horror flashes across the other’s face, frown deepening. “...that’s a hypothetical situation, right?”

Tweek cannot help the snort that escapes him as he swipes his card down the side of the till. “Nope.”

“What the fuck.”

“Saturday shifts are an…experience. Receipt?”

Awkward Stranger nods, still looking somewhat scandalised. Upon receiving his change, he proceeds to dump it all in the tip jar.

“For your frontline services.” he says very seriously. Only the twinkle in his eye betrays his amusement.  

\---

Next Monday, as he pays for the world’s milkiest latte, Tall, Weird and Unfairly Handsome In An Ugly Chullo Hat asks him if his Saturday shift was vomit-free. It’s enough to startle a laugh out of Tweek, high-pitched and embarrassing. He gets a quirk of a lip in return.  
It becomes a habit, of sorts. Monday orders are accompanied by an offhand enquiry about the weekend shifts. On occasion, the barista has a good story he wants to share - especially when the incident left the shop with physical scars.  
Chullo Hat Enthusiast also starts paying by card. Which means Tweek probably should start calling Craig Tucker by his real name instead of assigning him more nicknames.

\---

Thursday brings about a thunderstorm and a cranky crowd, drenched and impatient for their fix. He has already had to fix half a dozen unreasonable orders - who in their right mind orders an extra hot, extra wet latte, and  _half caff_ at that?! In Tweek's long and miserable experience, disaster is almost inevitable.

“This is not what I ordered!” his latest customer shrieks, perfectly manicured nails thrust dangerously close to his nose. “This is _completely wrong!”_

“I'm - nghh - very sorry, m’am. If you give me a minute, I can remake it for - “

“I have been waiting for almost ten minutes!” she interrupts, expression thunderous. As if Tweek had just suggested she dip a scorpion in her drink. “How _hard_ is to make a decent non-fat one pump vanilla latte with two shots of espresso - “

“It's just a fucking cup of coffee, lady.”

A third voice, dry and unimpressed, cuts through her rant. A dozen eyes snap to the familiar figure of Craig, standing fourth in line.

“Well _excuse me_ for having _standards_ and certain expectations from an establishment that claims to have pride in their product!” Soccer Mom snaps back, subjecting Craig her patented haughty glare.

“Did your house burn down?”

“ _What?!_ ”

“Did your house burn down?” Craig repeats, looking immensely bored with her outrage already. “Or did you catch your husband in someone else this morning?”

The woman splutters, aghast. “ _No!_ How dare you -”

“Right. You're just being an entitled prick, then.” he snorts. Tweek has no idea how someone can make a single noise sound so condescending. “Thanks for clarifying.”

There's more shouting and a lot more accusations - he catches a brief glimpse of Scorned Soccer Mom practically puffing up to twice her size, face lobster-red - but then hands are gripping his shoulders and he’s being led away from the counter. The noises fade into an incomprehensible buzz as the part-timer guides him into the staff room and its worn, comfortable sofa, her voice timid when she asks him if he’s okay. It takes him a good five minutes before his voice is steady enough, but eventually he can reply to reassure her.

By the time he makes it back to the front of the shop, both Craig and Snotty Customer From Hell are already gone.   

\---

Friday brings sunny skies and a harried-looking regular, stepping through the door ten minutes earlier than usual.

“You okay?” he asks in a low voice once it's his turn, gaze searching for any signs of visible trauma.

“Fine. Fine!” Tweek says quickly. He feels the skin of his cheeks starting to burn as he busies himself with tidying around the till. “All fine. At least she didn’t - nghh - throw anything.”

Craig raises a single wary eyebrow, shoulders relaxing a fraction. “Well. At least that's one less asshole that'll be coming around.”

“Oh she came back earlier this morning, actually.” Tweek says, tone light. “Was going on and on about the horrible experience she had, the awful way she was treated by the staff. She wanted to speak to my manager.”

Craig's alarm morphs into confusion - which just prompt’s the blonde’s grin to widen further.  

“My manager was happy to see her. She let her rant for a minute before banning her from the store for life.”

Craig slowly blinks.  
And then bursts into the dorkiest-sounding laughter Tweek has ever heard.

A group of students pour in just as Craig pays for his drink, and their conversation is cut short. When they’ve all been served, an exhausted law student knocks their mug on the floor, prompting Tweek to jump into action. He never gets to thank Craig.  
The next morning, he silently upgrades the other’s drink to the largest cup they have, spending a precious extra minute with the foam decoration. The unexpected smile he spies on the other’s face (followed by Craig snapping a careful picture) leaves his stomach in tight, delightful knots.  

\---

The next week, Tweek is elbow-deep in chocolate syrup and dried coconut flakes when Craig clears his throat, eyes still fixed on the card machine.

“Hey, Tweek. I wanted to ask - “

A shrill mechanical screech cuts through the air, prompting everyone to wince and clap their hands over their ears. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Bebe sweep out of her office, already issuing commands.

“Fire alarm!” she yells above the noise, motioning for the door. “Outside! Now!”

(Naturally, when they manage to herd everyone out, the sky crackles with thunder.)

\---

The dark circles under Craig’s eyes are legendary as he shuffles through the door, movements like a bad animatronic toy. Tweek can’t help the snigger that slips free.  

“You look pretty fresh for a zombie.”

“Thanks.” comes the drawling reply. “I put all my clothes on the right way round this morning.”

An odd thing to brag about. However, after witnessing the horde of stressed students for the past week, Tweek can appreciate the significance of the statement. “I’m - nghh - very proud of you.”

Craig blinks at him, the motion akin to narcoleptic owl. The blonde can practically see the gears struggling to turn in his head.

“I wanted to. Ask you.“ he says before pausing to hide a yawn behind his hand. “...things.”

“Things.”

“Important things.” the taller boy reassures, last words lost to the voids of another yawn. Tweek’s jaw twitches with the effort not to laugh as he slides a cup of tea in front of him.  

“Ask me when you’re awake.”

\---

Exam week passes by in a flurry of panicked traffic and much, much too many orders of espresso. Save for the one instance when Tweek has to set Kyle up for an emergency nap in the staffroom before calling his boyfriend, nothing noteworthy happens.  
Craig’s slurred promise lingers at the periphery of his thoughts. Depending on the days, its presence is either a comfort or an inevitable source of stress and paranoia.

 It’s on a Tuesday, in the middle of a cold brew promotion that Tweek decides he cannot take the suspense anymore.

“Here’s your receipt. And - uh - you’re. You’re awake, aren’t you?”

“Nope.” Craig replies, tucking the slip of paper into his wallet. The Red Racer charm on the zip swings merrily with the movement. “You’re witnessing my sleepwalking in its advanced stages.”

“Piss off.” the blonde snaps without thinking. He ignores the nervous twitch in his stomach when Craig shoots a smug grin his way. “Argh! You were going to ask me something when you were - awake and coherent!”

His grin freezes, morphing into something muted within seconds. If Tweek didn’t know any better, he’d swear the taller boy looked somewhat nervous.

“Right.”

A sharp movement behind him draws Tweek’s attention away for a moment. There is a couple sitting around the nearby table, engaged in a very intense discussion - one that’s amplifying in volume by the minute. As Craig clears his throat, the guy slams a hand on the table.

“You’re a liar, and a bad one at that!”

The girl bristles, eyes flashing. “Oh yeah? I wasn’t the one who had the nerve to send that slag messages from our _shared account!”_

Oh, joy. Just what they all needed.

Craig spares them a brief glance, rolling his eyes in the bitchiest manner known to man. Despite the escalating situation, it makes Tweek snigger.

“So…?”

“You are such an asshole!” the girl shrieks, voice trembling. “Just the absolute worst!”

Craig exhales. “Right. Yeah. Are you - “

A chair clatters to the ground as the girl gets to her feet, the argument finally reaching its screaming crescendo. Before Tweek can make a move, three things happen in quick succession.  
Enraged, the girl grabs her purse and begins storming away, the front door of the cafe her clear destination. Furious, her date grabs her cup, still half full and abandoned on the table. With a wounded battle cry, he chucks it in her direction.  
His abhorrent aim becomes horrifyingly clear as the cup misses its target by a mile, smacking into Craig and splattering its contents along his back.

 When he's mopping the floor later, the perpetrator on his unwilling way to the nearest dry-cleaner’s, he wonders why Craig looked more disappointed rather than angry about the whole affair.

 ---

It’s Thursday, and one of the rare mornings Tweek has off. Still savouring the luxurious fifteen extra minutes he got to spend in bed, he shoulders the door of the vet's clinic open just in time for his appointment. A quick exchange of pleasantries later, he is pocketing the monthly vitamin dose for his pet parrot. He is about to head straight to the exit when a familiar form - hunched over a pet carrier on the far side of the waiting room - catches his eye.

“...Craig?”

The other’s head snaps up, confirming his identity. Sunken, tired eyes widen in recognition before he manages a weak smile of sorts.

“Hey. Small world.”

“Are you okay?!” Tweek hisses in alarm. He ignores the annoyed glances thrown his way, claiming the chair next to the other in a hurry. “What happened?”

Before Craig can answer, urgent squeaks claim his attention. As he drops his gaze to the front of the carrier, a guinea pig scampers forwards with a small wheeking sound. It takes Tweek approximately three seconds to fall madly in love. He must make some sort of a noise because when he glances back up, Craig’s expression has softened into something affectionate.  

“This is Stripe. And he hasn’t been eating lately, and I made the mistake of going too deep into Google this morning.” He rubs a hand over his face, voice muffled into his sleeve. “The nurse just told me to sit here and wait my turn.”

With a wince, Tweek ducks his head to get a closer look at the guinea pig. “...Do you - nghh - want company?”

He feels the taller boy stiffen next to him. “...you don’t need to - it might take ages. Isn’t it your day off?”

“Do you?” Tweek presses stubbornly. _You look like shit, and I’m not leaving you here on your own_ sits on the tip of his tongue, itching to tumble free. He sees Craig hesitate, and his mind is made up.

“Come on. I know you must - nghh - have a ridiculous amount of pictures. Show me yours, and I’ll show you mine.”

-

Three hours later, Tweek holds the clinic door open for his stone-faced companion, who walks outside with a considerably lighter wallet and a very sleepy guinea pig.

“At least nothing is wrong.”

“We waited for three hours to be told my guinea pig is _apparently just fat_.” Craig huffs. “I think the universe is hell-bent on making me look like an idiot.”

“I don't think it's fair to blame the universe for _that_.”

“Har har har.” If his hands weren’t otherwise occupied, he would have no doubt already be at the receiving end of a middle finger. He can see Craig’s throat bob as he pauses to swallow. “...Thanks. For - for staying.”

“No problem, man.” Tweek says, hoping his voice sounds nonchalant. Normal. “I understand how scary this kind of stuff is. And we never - nghh - get to. Just. Talk when I’m working, anyways.”

His steps quickly pick up the pace, fingers itching with the urge to grab at his hair. It takes him a minute to realise Craig has stopped walking. He stands a few feet behind him, grip on the carrier tight and eyes intense.   

“I was going to ask you if you were free this weekend.” The words rush out of him in a breathless burst, voice unusually strained. “And if you wanted to. Do something together. But apparently the universe is just hell-bent on stopping me from asking you on a date.”

Tweek can only stare, heart thundering in his ears as he feels his cheeks flush blazing crimson. Craig apparently takes that as cue to continue.

“And I didn’t want to come across as even more of a creep - you’re working, and you’re being paid to be nice to people, and I get that, but you’re just - “

“...I have a pottery class tomorrow at six!” the blonde blurts out, finally getting his tongue to work.   

“...okay?”

“If you...wanted to, you could join me.”

A tongue darts out to wet lips that Tweek had found himself paying more and more attention to as the weeks passed by. They quirk into a helpless smile as Craig moves to close the distance between them, voice barely a whisper.

“Cool.”

\---

It’s Friday evening soon enough, and Tweek is struggling to keep his hands steady as he hurries to immortalise the image of Craig Tucker crafting a lopsided vase, plastered with clay from his elbows to the tip of his nose.

“This,” Craig declares in a serious voice, “is the best day of my life.”

\---

The picture somehow finds its way to the lock-screen of his phone. And although it earns him a good hour of delighted ribbing from Jimmy, it’s worth every second of it.

 

 

AN: 

Creek Week is upon us! I am unprepared and excited! I've been wanting to write something like this since I joined the fandom, so I'm glad I got to. Shoutout to my barista friend who answered all my questions amongst knowing glances. You're a star, M <3

Soundtrack is [Julian Moon's Cup Of Coffee](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qrQN6eJxQ-k) which is a wonderfully furious song in a sweet wrapping, and never fails to make me smile.

Please check out all the other awesome submissions over on the [Creek Week Tumblr!](https://creek--week.tumblr.com/) And whilst you're there, [hit me up :)](https://lwtis.tumblr.com/)


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